


Mind Over Matter

by queenhomeslice



Series: I Wanna Ride My Chocoboy All Day: Prompto/Reader Stories [23]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Chubby Reader, Curvy Reader, F/M, Mind Reading, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Status Effects, fat reader, lots of yelling, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23783797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Prompto gets hit with a status effect that gives him an unwanted glimpse into the mind of one of his best friends
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Reader
Series: I Wanna Ride My Chocoboy All Day: Prompto/Reader Stories [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554340
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77





	Mind Over Matter

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.
> 
> ———  
> I don’t actually know what Mindflayers do—take the status effect thing with a grain of salt, okay?

“Prompto, help!” you scream, whirling around, casting magic wildly at the Mindflayer that has suddenly appeared on the edge of the battlefield. You hit the daemon with everything that you’ve got, but nothing seems to be getting through to it. Through the whirlwind chaos of the fight, you see Prompto dispatch the last of the goblins and turn, violet-blue eyes wide in horror as he sees the Mindflayer closing in on you. You stumble back, and hear Prompto shout—and the last thing you see is your best friend flinging himself between you and the monster before the battlefield becomes clouded in a dense green mist, causing you to black out and collapse. 

________ 

Prompto wakes up to panicked shouting, his head throbbing like someone’s getting paid to hammer on it. He’s surrounded by a familiar heat, familiar smells—Gladio. He blinks his eyes open weakly to see the mountain of a man curled around him, holding him tightly, so tightly—blue eyes meet amber, and Gladio’s lips descend against Prompto’s forehead, the shield muttering thankful praises to the Astrals that Prompto’s alive. 

“Hey big guy,” Prompto mutters weakly. 

“Blondie,” Gladio sobs, kissing his forehead again in another moment of tenderness. “Are you all right?” 

“I’m fine,” Prompto whispers, patting Gladio’s big beefy arm. 

“We thought you were a goner.” Gladio says, unwrapping himself from the younger man, helping him stand on shaky legs, tumping him on the back. 

“Where’s __________?” Prompto sputters, wiping blood from his mouth. 

“Iggy’s got her, Prom, she’s fine. You need a potion, need to take it easy.” 

“I have to see her.” Prompto stares Gladio down defiantly. 

Gladio sighs and bends slightly. “C’mon, on my back. I’ll carry you to the car.” 

The ride back to the haven is quiet—Ignis drives with purpose, and Noctis dozes in the front seat. Gladio stares at his book, and Prompto curls himself around ____________, and tries to shake the sickly feeling he’s had since dispatching the Mindflayer over an hour ago. He’d downed a potion after he had seen to her, and after the four of them had made sure she was all right, he hadn’t left her side. Except...everything wasn’t _exactly_ all right. When she had come to, Prompto realized he could hear her voice without seeing her mouth move. It slowly occurred to him over the course of the evening that the green smoke from the Mindflayer was a status effect. 

_His arms feel so good around me,_ Prompto could hear, even though __________’s eyes were shut and she was tucked under his arm, breathing heavily, half-asleep from the fierce fight. _He probably thinks I’m so pathetic, not being able to hold my own. Gods, what am I doing here? I’m not strong enough for this, not strong enough for_ _Noct_ _,_ the vitriolic voice continues. 

Prompto sniffs back a sob and tugs her closer, begging his mind to focus on anything else except ____________’s deprecating internal monologue. 

Ignis, Gladio, and Noct don’t ask Prompto or ____________ to do anything else related to setting up camp aside from carrying their own bags. Once the camping chairs are up by the fire, Prompto sinks down into one and groans, muscles still healing after the ambush of daemons they’d taken down. 

“Iggy,” he whines, raking a dirty gloved hand through his hair, messing it up as he throws his head back. “Can I have a beer?” 

“You’re underage,” comes the quick reply from behind him where Ignis is preparing dinner. A sigh, then—“Well, if it makes you feel better.” 

“Please,” groans Prompto. “I just need...” 

“I gotcha, Blondie,” says Gladio as he moves from stoking the fire to the big ice chest. 

“You’ve been really nice to Prompto today,” Noctis quips, staring into the fire. “Didn’t think you cared?” 

Gladio laughs. “Aw c’mon, we’re friends right, Prompto?” 

“Oh, y-yeah! Of course we are. Thanks so much, earlier. For your help and all.” 

“Had us worried,” Gladio nods as he tosses the cold can of alcohol across the campsite. 

Prompto catches it, and catches ___________’s soft stare out of his peripheral vision. He finds that he can subdue the status effect the less he looks at her, or when he avoids direct eye contact. He’s hoping the beer will dull his senses even further. But he smiles as he holds out the drink. “Wanna take the edge off?” 

______________ grins and nods, and holds out her hand to take the can. 

Prompto hears the voice as soon as his fingers brush hers. _Gods, why does he have to be so fucking beautiful?_ Prompto bites his lip and tries to quell the blush that he knows will come. He averts his eyes quickly, calling to Gladio to toss him another, but the raging inner voice of his other best friend won’t shut up. 

_You just need to drop this stupid crush, self. Five years of pining and where has it gotten you? You’re so weak. No pretty enough, not feminine enough, too fat, too awkward, too weird...no wonder he looks at Cindy the way he does._

___________ snaps the beer open and takes a long swig. 

_Drowning your sorrows in alcohol, real fuckin’ classy. It’s a wonder Noctis doesn’t dump you at the nearest gas station and say good riddance. A team is only as strong as its weakest link—you're just a stupid girl, you have no business being here, Prompto will never love you back, stupid, stupid, ugly stupid girl, worthless piece of—_

Prompto’s resolve breaks as he crushes the half-full beer can in his hands and stands so quickly that his camping chair falls over backwards. 

“Prom?” Noctis looks up, immediately on edge. “What’s wrong?” The prince’s voice is tinged with worry. 

The tension at the campsite is palpable. No one did anything _wrong_ in battle earlier, and Prompto _knows_ that—an enemy appeared that they weren’t prepared for, that was way out of their current skillset—like a level 10 character trying to fight the end boss. Prompto shouldn’t blame himself for getting hurt like he did, and neither should __________—Ignis would review battle strategies after they had all rested, and surely he wouldn’t be _mad;_ Ignis will only devise plans so that they won’t get caught so off-guard next time. Gladio will suggest more early-morning training. They will all improve, over time, for each other. For Noctis. It’s do or die. 

But Prompto can’t take this anymore. He’s hearing things he shouldn’t be hearing, and as uplifting as it is that his longtime affections are returned, he didn’t want to find out like—not like this. 

“I—” Prompto turns to _________, who’s clutching her beer can, looking at him with worry. He ignores her voice in his head. “I need to talk to _________ alone for a second.” 

Ignis turns, soup spoon still in hand. “There’s not much daylight left, Prompto. It would be unwise to—” 

“Iggy, _please_ ,” Prompto spits, leveling his gaze at the advisor, possibly for the first time since he’s known Ignis. “This is _important._ Please, trust me.” He rights the camping chair, sets his crinkled beer can in the mesh cupholder, and tugs __________ to her feet, causing her to fumble with the beer can as she sets it on the ground. 

Once they’re out of earshot, but still in quick running distance of the haven, Prompto turns to her, eyes wide and brimmed with tears. 

“Would you, for _one_ goddamn second, quit talking to yourself like that!” Prompto feels himself go from zero to a hundred almost instantly. “It’s not fair for you to think those things, __________!” 

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” she cries, suddenly hurt. “What is wrong with you?” 

Prompto ignores the bombardment of her inner anxiety and continues. “The Mindflayer,” he says flatly, fidgeting with his bracelets. “There’s—I—didn't say anything, because I didn’t want anyone to worry, and I figured it’d go away soon—” He stares his best friend in her soft, round face. “A status effect. I’ve been able to hear your thoughts. Since...since the fight.” 

Emotion ripples over __________’s skin like a chameleon adapting its color. Her hand flies over her mouth and she shakes her head, squinting her eyes shut, doubling over as if in pain. 

“The way you talk about yourself—” Prompto chokes, steps up closer to her, even as she turns away in horror. “I guarantee you, _nobody_ thinks of you like that. You’re anything but worthless. You’re not pathetic, or weak, or stupid—you've gotten so much stronger! Ignis talks about it all the time. Your skilled command of magic is one reason why Noctis chose you personally for his Crownsguard. You have got to start believing in yourself!” Prompto grabs her by the shoulders and spins her around to look at him. He’s angry, so angry—at that stupid inner voice that clouds his own thoughts even now. 

She’s crying, face red with embarrassment and shame, a blubbering mess of tears and snot as she looks at Prompto’s face. “I don’t...don’t deserve...” 

“Shut up, shut up, _shut up_ ,” Prompto half-laughs, bitterly, _seething_. “I can’t take it anymore! I can’t take hearing this, hearing _you_. I’m so angry I could kill something just for the hell of it.” 

“I’ll go sleep in the Regalia—until it’s over—” _________ begins to say, but Prompto suddenly presses his lips to hers, quieting both of their minds for just a split second. 

When he breaks away, _________ is staring at him, wide-eyed and red for an entirely different reason. 

“You’re not sleeping anywhere but next to me,” he murmurs. “For the record, I like how you feel in my arms, too. It’ll be hard to even go one day without cuddling up to the woman I love.” 

She gasps, shaking her head. “You’re just saying that to be nice, because you can hear what I think—Prom, you don’t have to fake this, because you feel _sorry_ for me,” she manages to choke out. “I thought you were better than that, at least...” 

Prompto grits his teeth and drops his hands from her shoulders, pressing deep half-moons into the leather covering his palms. “You know what’s unattractive? Having your head so far up your own ass that you can’t see what’s staring you in the face!” 

__________ physically recoils, but keeps her angry gaze locked onto Prompto. 

The blond holds it, stares her down like a predator, until he sees her face twinge—something like hope flickers across her tired, bloodied features. 

“You’re—you mean it?” The biting edge is gone, only the high-pitched whine of hope, longing—love. 

“Yes,” breathes Prompto, letting his own body go slack with relaxation. He pauses, concentrates—he realizes that there’s nothing but silence coming from the woman in front of him. “Hey! It's...it’s gone!” 

“What, really—wait. I’m thinking of a number...guess!” There’s a small curl of a lip, some mirth returned to her eyes instead of sadness and pain. 

“Uh,” says Prompto. “Three?” It really is a guess. 

“Wrong! Two hundred and five.” 

“Thank the gods,” Prompto sighs, slapping his own sweaty forehead. “I was about to go crazy.” 

“You really scared me. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you so angry...” 

“You scared me more,” Prompto says quietly. “I’m sorry, I just...I don’t like you hearing you think those things about yourself.” He wraps his arms around ____________ and pulls her in for a crushing hug. When he lets go, he kisses her for real this time, letting the pent-up passion and overwhelming feelings of the last five years get lost in the feel of her warm, wet mouth against his. There are more tears, scraping of teeth, fists in each other's shirts—as if the other will disappear without an anchor to the earth. 

The sun is but an orange sliver on the horizon, now, and as much as Prompto wants to fuck her against the nearest tree, he knows they need to head back to safety. He pulls away and cups her wet, red cheek in his hand. 

____________ leans into it, lips kiss-swollen and slightly parted, chest heaving with the adrenaline rush of the entire day. Her eyes flutter closed and Prompto can’t resist pressing feather-light kisses to her eyelids. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he says as he thumbs the tears away. “All these years. You’re gorgeous, and you have the most beautiful soul, and you’re strong, and you’re funny, and you...you’re _everything_ to me.” 

_____________ opens her eyes and scans Prompto’s face for any hint of doubt. “You promise me?” 

“I promise you, in every lifetime, on every planet, in every timeline—whatever universe we’re in, it’s _you._ It’s always been you. And when you can’t believe in yourself, let me believe for you, all right?” 

She bites her lip and nods, eyes flicking sideways to the setting sun. “We should get back.” 

“Yeah.” Prompto summons his gun, just in case, and grabs her hand.

They walk back to the haven, and Prompto hears no thoughts but his own—happy, full of love, and determined to make his girlfriend—his best friend—see her worth, even if it takes him the rest of his life.


End file.
